


Luck

by KR Grim (KR_Grim)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KR_Grim/pseuds/KR%20Grim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, dumb luck is the worst kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck

Vriska grinned. Sure, Tavros had been killed off, but he wasn’t a loss, especially since they already had one Breath asshole at God Tier. And John was stupid enough that he’d be the perfect accessory. She wanted his luck badly, but she could wait until they’d destroyed Noir. And then she could take his luck, all the luck. All of it. But first, to destroy Noir. She laughed defiantly as she led John to the place where Aradia was holding Bec Noir. This would be perfect. She would be able to enact her plan, and nothing would stop her at all. Even the Green Sun’s omnipotence didn’t protect you from the impossibly lucky octuple eight roll. It was unblockable, uncounterable, undeniable. It was instantly lethal to most things, and the things it wasn’t lethal to weren’t things that would go down easily.

Almost seventeen million amperes of current doesn’t die quietly, after all.

The dice rolled, landed. All eights. Bec Noir wasn’t going to be able to dodge. Not with the time trickery Aradia had pulled on him. And he wasn’t a god. He wasn’t a Horrorterror. The sheer current would kill him, especially since he wasn’t grounded. The inevitable victory would be hers, all hers, forever. John’s breeze skills to bend the odds slightly in her favor, Aradia’s stranglehold on Bec Noir’s body… electricity crackled and flowed through the carapace. The indestructible demon lit up like a Perigee’s Eve tree. She could see it glowing. It was going to die, and there was nothing it could do to —

The lightning stopped. Vriska looked at John, and then at Aradia. It wasn’t supposed to do this. And then, in an outward-expanding wave, it released the electricity. Vriska supposed she was lucky that it wasn’t as high current as she’d launched at him. Only enough to give her, Aradia, and John a mild shock. But Aradia wasn’t used to the pains of the flesh. This would be useful. She’d be a good distraction for Noir. He’d want revenge. And meanwhile, Vriska would be able to escape scot free. She didn’t waste any time. John had outlived his usefulness, but she didn’t have time to take his luck. It was time to be gone… and so she left.

She was therefore surprised an hour later when she saw John hauling an unconscious but still breathing Aradia towards the meteor base. “You bitch,” he said. “You left us to die.” His breath was slightly ragged, as though the effort had taken a lot out of him. And, she reflected, it probably had. After all, Aradia was heavy. And John wasn’t used to carrying large amounts of weight around. She grinned. He’d be an easy target now. She could take her time. “And Tavros, too… Terezi said you killed him…”

Vriska laughed. “Bull boy? He spurned my romantic advances. He got what he deserved.” She grinned at him. “Just like you will, Egberrrrrrrrt. And in front of an audience.” She looked; the other trolls and humans had shown up, probably to wonder what Vriska had done to make John so angry. “Here. Let me show you what I mean.”

Some idiot — Vriska didn’t bother to note who — moved towards them, but John flung out a hand. “No,” he said, leading Aradia to a corner. “It’s her and me. Just us.” Vriska laughed.

“Just us, he says,” she brayed. “Just me and my kismesis. If you think you’re worthy of that honor, then I’ve got just one thing to — “

“Shut the fuck up, Serket,” he said. Vriska’s eyes widened slightly. It was the first time he’d used her last name. He was serious about this. “Let’s just fight.” Vriska grinned.

“All right.” She focused her Vision Eightfold on him. It was her special luck-draining technique. She was going to drain every last ounce of luck from him and watch as something stupidly unlucky happened to him. The ceiling might collapse, or the floor might give way, or maybe he’d trip on a hammer and die. Yes, that would be good. And she could feel the luck flow into her. It was an unusual flavor. It tasted almost like blueberries, but more saccharine.

The floor collapsed underneath him. John rolled away just in time — not lucky, though. A calculated move. The ceiling’s collapse was a given — but again, a calculated swing of Fear No Anvil had pulverized the chunk of falling ceiling. Somehow, Egbert had gotten better at figuring things out. But how? And why wasn’t her mind control working on him anymore? Why couldn’t she get into his mind? What was happening?

***

Rose grinned. Her conjecture about Egbert’s luck being “dumb luck” was turning out to be more literal than she’d expected. John’s intuition was being combined with a brain that was smarter than he was used to. In Rose’s view, no amount of luck would have been able to stop Serket from getting the tar beaten out of her. And then, roundly cowed, perhaps her powers could be used for the good of the team.

***

Another attempt at stealing his luck failed. He had no more luck. He was a blind man playing chess against someone who had rigged the starting positions; how the hell was he surviving? And how the hell had he managed to inflict a wound upon her? The wound in her abdomen was troubling, but it wasn’t anything she would die over. She tried to take his mind, but somehow the coffee can that had once proved so easy to pop open was now a steel fortress, a keep worthy of a Sea-Dweller. It infuriated Vriska, who threw the dice. Egbert was going to get hit with the worst attack. The chances of rolling octuple eight twice in a row were dismal, but she only needed luck to pull it off. Luck would do it.

Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight. The final four dice were still falling as Egbert’s hammer snapped off one of her horns in a devastating blow. Eight. Eight. The sheer power of the dice was overwhelming. Eight. John’s hammer smashed into her face. There was only one outcome that wouldn’t kill John, and Vriska was too lucky for that outcome to occur… without interference.

A slight breeze caught the last die. One.

The Prankster’s Final Gambit. The one outcome she’d never gotten. The one outcome that required cunning that had always been beyond her. The least lethal technique of them all. A fucking pie to the face… and Vriska was somehow the recipient. John, of course, would have been able to tell her why — he was the undisputed pranking master. A Prankster’s Gambit would always fall in his favor, no matter how much luck the other person had.

John brought his hammer down on her face, driving shards of glass into one of her eyes. Yellow fluid leaked from it as seven pupils ran down her face like colored egg white. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’ll let up. You’re thinking it will all go back to the way it was, you manipulating everything, you coming up with the plans. But I won’t let that happen.” Fear No Anvil smashed into the side of her mouth. Vriska couldn’t reach her dice to reroll; blue blood was leaking from her wounds. She looked at John with her unharmed eye, backing up and clutching her side. The right eye, always her fucking right eye, why was it always that fucking eye that got spared…?

“Why aren’t you dying?! You should be so unlucky it can’t help but kill you!” John grimaced.

“Because,” he said softly. “Luck isn’t everything.” The hammer’s movements were almost musical, and Vriska had to use up some luck to avoid having her other horn snapped off by the surprising strength of Egbert’s blows. “There’s other things that matter. Strength, both of body and of character. Flexibility. Stamina. Skill.” Somehow, by some insane twist of luck, Vriska had gotten the Fluorite Octet back. They were in her hand, ready to be thrown, when the hammer crushed it. She screamed as the dice pierced her hand before powdering under the force of the hammer’s blow. Her right hand, mangled and bloodied. She could see a blurry Aradia grinning or grimacing at her. “Love.”

“Fucking… goddamn… Egbert,” she said, backing up slowly. He wasn’t a telekinetic, but he’d injured her heavily, even if he hadn’t touched her legs yet. She couldn’t run very far, her instincts told her; she would be out of breath before too long. And another hammer strike caught her in the chest. She could feel her carapace puncturing her lung. “Please,” she whispered. “Stop it. Stop the pain.”

John raised the hammer and swung it in a mighty arc. Vriska felt a sharp pain in her neck, and then nothing below. She looked to her right for confirmation. There, slumped against a wall, arms still holding a leaking abdomen wound, was her body. It looked radiant lying there, the orange suit stained in spots with perfect blue blood.

Vriska laughed. For the first time in a long while, Vriska laughed without vindictive intent. “Not even a scratch on you,” she whispered. As everything faded out, she heard a voice, a calm, reassuring voice, a voice that had been present in all her dreams, a voice she’d hoped would speak words of love to her.

“I’m sorry,” said John Egbert, and Vriska Serket’s world went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I feel that if anyone's going to take Vriska down... it should be the very man she built up.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Sixteen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/155266) by [KR Grim (KR_Grim)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KR_Grim/pseuds/KR%20Grim)




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